Bed of Roses
by Jinxit13
Summary: Quinn is an up and coming journalist in New York who hunts down a new story by flying to an African orphanage along-side the award-winning Broadway star Rachel Berry. There they might just find the little diamond in the rough that they've been looking for. FABERRY. RATING AND GENRE MAY CHANGE. Other characters/pairings may be included. PLEASE READ, THIS IS NOT AN UPDATE.
1. Chapter 1

**I have made the decision to start re-working my first fic because I feel as though I have discovered a way that it will be more relatable. Therefore, I really hope this works out! But that does not mean that I'm abandoning the other fic. I will be working on both until I can figure out which one works best. If it all goes to plan then this will be entirely told through Quinn's perspective. That way, we can experience all the Faberry goodness first hand! **

**The first chapter is a build-up. I already have the second one written and might post it soon. In my head I imagine Carmen to look a little like Gemma Artenton simply because I love the strength and power that she portrays (this is just in case anyone is interested in cast lists!). **

**Sorry in advance for any mistakes. This fic is set prior to season 3. **

**Reviews are always wonderful to get. Let me know if you think I should continue! **

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**Quinn's POV**

A little New York studio, tentatively tucked behind a tiny backstreet coffee shop, was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees splattered in Central Park, a delicate scent of pink-flowering thorns came through the open window.

My boss – an English photographer named Carmen Smith – sat at her desk, watching me with a massive smile. Her liquid bronze eyes flickered with flecks of gold as the sunlight filtered into the white studio, reminding me of her tendency to make irrational decisions.

"I have an idea." She declared, leaning back in her chair with a pensive expression defining her soft, delicate features. I mimicked her position, folding my arms across my chest with a curious smile.

"Should I be worried?"

Carmen arched one of her perfect eyebrows, smirking at me. "Yes, probably." She admitted, unashamed. "But I think you're going to like this… It's one of my better ideas."

"Oh, god. Here we go!"

"Shut up!" she laughed, playfully balling up a piece of paper and aiming it at me without any real intent. The wind flowed freely through the open high-rise window causing the ball of paper to skim me and bounce of the wall instead.

"Pathetic." I smirked, picking up the paper and throwing it into the bin with one fluid movement. I then adopted my previous position, folding my arms across my chest. "What was your idea?"

"Last night, I had a meeting with a group of writers from the UK who want to start a brand-new, modernised campaign that targets young people…" I leant forward, effectively admitting that I was intrigued at the very least. Carmen's molten eyes sparkled excitedly as she tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

"That doesn't sound very much like our usual work…"

"It's not." She smiled wickedly, intriguing me even further. Her white blouse, ruffled by the wind, threatened to expose a hint of her ample cleavage as she leant across to the window, retrieving a file with the tips of her fingers. "Admittedly, it's out of our comfort zone, but I think we could pull it off."

Carmen casually slid the file across to my side of the huge double desk, her hand lingering there for a moment as if hesitating to hand it over. I slipped the folder into my lap, hungrily scanning the open pages.

Inside, Carmen's delicate script had carved a meticulously well-planned format across the A4 pages. It seemed as though this proposal – whatever it might have been – was important. I titled my head to the right, eyeing Carmen as I examined each page. "You were right when you said it's out of our comfort zone…"

"Oh c'mon, Quinn! You could do it." She pouted, purposely exposing a slither of her chest in a shameful attempt to sway me. It was a little trick of hers that had never failed yet. Every single time I promised myself that I would not fall for it, I did.

"Stop it." I warned, hiding my smile behind a coffee mug as Carmen sat on the edge of my desk, crossing her long, toned dancer's legs at the ankles. "You know I can't say no when you do that."

"That's why I'm doing it." Carmen stated, tossing her soft, velvet hair over her shoulder. I swallowed hard, trying desperately to remain unaffected by the gentle sway of Carmen's hips as she rose from my desk. I narrowed my eyes at the brunette, refusing to be easily manipulated by rocking hips and beautiful eyes.

The only response that I got was a wicked grin paired with her unrelenting, pleading eyes. "Quinn, please just read the proposal over. It's a really good business proposition and I think we'll regret not taking the opportunity whilst we're fortunate enough to have it…"

"No. You're up to something." I said, pointing at her coy smile. "Just like the time you sent me to a festival in Sweden to provide 'exclusive coverage'. It turned out to be a girl's church choir and I was forced to join in! I was singing 'Jerusalem' for weeks after that! Do you remember?"

Carmen's musical laughter filled the room. When she saw my face, she bit her bottom lip with the slightest hint of guilt. She didn't feel that guilty though, since her smile widened when I began to hum my verse of Jerusalem. "That was just a mistake, Q. I've apologised for that a million times already."

"No, you videoed it when you came to watch our final show. You forced me to join in and then sent the video to Rachel, Santana and Blaine as well as your own family whilst you stood in the aisle and encouraged all the OAP's at Sunday Service to stand up and clap along."

"Well, I thought it was selfish not to share that rather spectacular moment. It was incredibly moving." Carmen grinned, sitting back down at her desk. "I brought you lunch to make up for it though, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did." I said, reaching for my coffee again. Just the thought of that day made my mouth dry. "It was the toughest chicken I'd ever eaten – I swear it asked me for a fight in the parking lot twice."

Carmen laughed, rolling her eyes at me with a good natured smile. The husky tone that complimented her British accent rang loud and crystal clear when she finally composed herself. "So," she sighed "Will you at least_ read_ the proposal? I think you'd be great for this project."

"Okay, okay! I'll read it." I said, throwing my hands up in defeat. "What does it entail?"

Carmen hesitated, deliberately stalling. Instantly, this aroused my suspicion. Whenever Carmen had to _think_ about speaking, it meant that she was not only trying to remember to say the right thing at the right time but far more difficult still, she was trying to leave the wrong things unsaid at every tempting moment.

Needless to say, this was generally very difficult for the brunette.

"In short it entails a camera, your skills as a journalist and a flight to Mozambique."

"Ah, nice and simple I see."

She grinned, and then suddenly grew serious. Her smiling eyes hardened, beginning their transition from liquid gold to rich auburn as she pulled her chair around to my side of the desk. "It would be doing me a massive favour if you could do this, Quinn. But please don't feel pressured…There's plenty of work left with Valentino and Vogue this month. We're not doing badly, I just wondered if you'd like the opportunity to gain more publicity."

"Well, I'm certainly _interested_…" I admitted, scanning Carmen's dark features. Her lips curled upwards into a smile, drawing attention to the light scattering of freckles that were sprinkled across her perfect nose. "Would you be coming with me?"

Within moments of Carmen's smile surfacing, it disappeared again. A degree of disappointment emerged from behind her shining eyes and she shook her head. "No, I won't be. They asked me to go, but since no one will be here to look after the studio, I can't. As a compromise, they have agreed that you can choose someone to go with you – preferably another celebrity."

"So, you want me to go on your behalf?" I asked. As more information began to trickle through, I began to understand that this was not just a career choice, but an opportunity to make a change. Before Carmen could say anymore, I'd already decided who I'd like to take with me.

_Rachel Berry._

Carmen nodded, absolutely certain. "Yes, I think you've got the compassion to handle this delicately with the care and consideration that they desire."

"So what exactly will I be doing?" I asked, picking up a pen and tearing a page from Carmen's notepad. She drummed her fingers along the desk, searching beneath the stray pieces of paper for details of the project_. We really need to get this studio presentable before any clients arrive, _I thought to myself, scrutinizing the large, empty studio.

Eventually, Carmen gave up and resorted to dragging the details out of her sub-consciousness memory. "From the discussion that occurred last night, you will be travelling to a very isolated orphanage in Africa – or Mozambique to be more precise – where you'll be filming and writing about your experiences there with the people that live there. You'll basically be creating an interactive dairy that will be shown for Comic Relief."

"That sounds remarkably sensible compared to your usual business adventures." I nodded, still slightly hazed by the idea. It had come out of the blue, sparking an unusual rage of conflicting emotions. Part of me –which was the more dominant part – was desperate to take this opportunity for what it was and embrace it with open arms, but the other part of me was hesitant. Undoubtedly, the project would be dangerous, plus any relationships formed with the locals would be promptly broken whenever my time was up in Mozambique. I would also have to travel there without Carmen and that was a huge deal-breaker.

"It's not an absolute necessity." Carmen reminded me. "I thought that maybe you could ask the Broadway performer that we ran into the other day..."

"You mean Rachel?" I asked, biting my lip as I thought about the possibility of dragging Rachel away from New York. The chances of being successful didn't exactlyscream success, but I had nothing to lose by asking. "She'll have to consult her itinerary." I smiled, turning around in my chair to retrieve my phone from the window sill. "But maybe she could use the opportunity."

"It's worth a try." Carmen encouraged as I punched Rachel's name into my phone. Just as I was about to call Rachel, another phone rang in the distance. I left my phone abandoned on the desk and answered the office phone instead. "Hi, this is Quinn Fabray speaking. Can I ask what this is in reference too?"

"What is it?" Carmen mouthed to me, pushing her black Ted Baker glasses up on top of her head. Her dark, tousled curls slid across her shoulder, falling down her back.

I paused, sandwiching the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I listened to the thick southern accent. "It's the Visa Card people."

"Oh god, what do they want?"

"They said there's been some unusual activity on your account."

Carmen's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, tilting her head to one side. "But I haven't used my account in weeks."

"That_ is _the unusual activity."

"Those bloody cheeks!" Carmen scoffed, rising from her seat, "Here, let me speak to them."

**/#/#/#/#**

Around the city, my memories are fresh. I can walk through the crowds without an identity, yet my memories are forever paved upon every crack in the pavement or Broadway sign on the street corner. There are always so many beautiful memories stored amidst its masses, but my most beautiful memory by far included Rachel Berry. I wasn't about to ruin the memory of her generosity by being late just after she had rearranged her entire itinerary just to meet me for lunch.

With quick, hasty steps I periodically glanced behind me and then increased my speed, nearly running by the time I arrived outside the Townhouse Bar on 52nd Street.

Just as I neared the entrance, my eyes inadvertently fell upon an unsuspecting Rachel Berry, who stood outside the bar tapping her foot. _Please turn around_, I thought to myself nearing her gradually with a softer, more professional stride.

It was as if the diva had heard my plea to turn around as her smiling eyes landed on me through the throng of people. Although I have never seen a smiling face that was not beautiful, I could not fathom exactly_ how_ beautiful the diva looked standing alone in the crowd. She looked just the same as I remembered, but her features were more angular - complimented by a bright, genuine smile.

Those wonderful, wide eyes that were so famously expressive beckoned me closer, inviting me over to her. "Rachel,"

"Quinn." We embraced each other briefly before I pulled away to give Rachel her space. Despite our progress during more recent years, I was under no illusion that what I did to Rachel, including her daily torment, was in any way forgotten. I smiled as we pulled away from each other, scanning her fleetingly. "You look lovely by the way." It wasn't a lie - she really did look incredible dressed in an understated pencil skirt and a smart blouse with silver accessories and her hair tied back into a high-ponytail, quaffed at the front.

"Thank-you, Quinn. So do you as always," she smiled, blushing as the compliment slipped from between her lips. "I have to admit that I was surprised when you called me."

"It's for a good cause, I promise." I smiled, holding the door open for her as we entered the sleek, contemporary bar. "I've got a feeling that this will be worth it."

"Oh really?" Rachel smirked, her voices two decibels higher than usual.

"Yeah." I grinned, biting my lip nervously as I pulled a stool out for her to sit on. Rachel thanked me graciously, elegantly sliding onto the stool in her skin-tight pencil skirt. "I think you'll walk away from here with a smile."

Her eyes widened, indicating that she was intrigued and listening to what I had to say.

We sat enveloped in a heavy, intense silence as we adjusted to each other's presence after so long. This time, we sat there as equals. I shifted my weight; about to tell Rachel that I was really happy to see her again when she broke the stagnant silence. "I'm glad you called." Rachel said, swallowing hard. "I've missed you, Quinn."

Blood rushed to my cheeks, causing me to blush an embarrassing scarlet red. I looked down at the table, and then forced myself to meet her anxious eyes. I stumbled over the words that had been strangling me for so long, writhing their way through me every time Rachel's name was mentioned. To express what I felt when I saw Rachel was more difficult than I'd imagined it would be.

I hid my nerves behind a nervous laugh and admitted that yes, I missed her too. "I've wanted to tell you the exact same thing for ages, Rach…" The words caught in the back of my throat, refusing to be spoken. I ignored my blatantly innate instinct to shy away from emotion, forcing my inner walls to drop. "I've missed you too, Rach. It seems like ages since we last saw each other."

"Yes, it does..." She agreed, nodding eagerly. Then she paused, studying me with a bright, amused smile. "Although if your smile is anything to go by, then I think we'll be seeing each other a lot more often in the future."

I laughed, ducking my head to hide the gentle blush that rose in my cheeks once again. "Yes..." I smiled. "I'd like that."

Rachel smiled, tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. "So would I."


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry about the delay! I've been extremely busy lately, but I'm hoping to start updating more regularly now that I've got the time. I'm especially sorry to everyone who may think this is an update! It isn't, I'm just experiencing a few issues with the site and some people have inboxed me saying this chapter is not displaying properly. I don't know what the issue is, but I've deleted and then uploaded this chapter so I'm praying it works! **

**The reviews have been amazing so I really hope I haven't let you down with this one! Please let me know what you think so that I can edit it if needed. It is a rough copy so will most likely be changed. **

**If anyone would be at all interested in being a beta-reader for me then that would be great and very much appreciated! **

**A new update is on its way!**

**Thank-you everyone!**

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"Let's sit in the back!" Rachel exclaimed with childish delight as she led me into Serendipity 3 on East Sixtieth Street. The raging sun scorched my back as we weaved amidst the masses, avoiding as many accidental bumps and pushes as we could. In an effort to avoid losing me, Rachel entwined our hands together and pulled me along behind her.

The narrow, old-timey ice-cream parlour was filled to the brim with echoing screams as parents treated their kids. The heavy air was punctuated with the shrill cries of sugared-up children as tired waitresses hurried back and forth carrying huge bowls of ice-cream.

I smiled, following Rachel as closely as possible. This wasn't exactly what I'd had planned for us, but when Rachel had spotted the little ice-cream parlour across the street from our original location, it was obvious that she wanted to relocate. I didn't argue since I was more than happy to go wherever, but a tiny fraction of me was disappointed that I didn't get the cocktail I was so desperately craving.

Rachel twisted around, smiling when her eyes landed on a small, intimate table tucked into a tiny crook of the restaurant. Light filtered through the little window next to the table, and a glass vase with one lone flower shimmered in the sun. "It's perfect." Rachel exclaimed, leading us over to the table.

Without questioning it, I followed her and then pulled out a chair for her to sit on, remembering my manners.

"You didn't have to do that, Quinn." Rachel smiled shyly, sliding into the seat.

"I wanted too." I admitted, slipping into my own seat opposite her. Rachel's smile grew wider, exposing her perfectly straight, white teeth. I recognised the smile instantly - it was the famous 'Rachel Berry Smile' that I had grown accustomed to throughout the years, but it was also the same smile which I had learnt to miss through more recent times.

Somehow, the very same smile that once annoyed me simultaneously provided me with a sense of promise.

I felt confident that today was not going to be a complete loss. Even if Rachel refused to acknowledge my apology - which I had carefully crafted this morning - or she didn't approve of the project, then at least I had met up with a beautiful stranger from my past that I had already admitted to missing. My vulnerability was unmasked, and we both knew it. She had the power to make or break us and I hoped with absolute certainty that she would choose wisely.

"Have you been here before?" I asked, smoothing out a crease in my shirt. I peered around the little place, smiling at it's authentic charm.

""Yes." She grinned. "Me and Finn used to come here like once a week and eat peppermint sundaes." She picked up a menu, examining it with bright eyes. The mention of Finn's name didn't sit quite right, and she breezed past the topic of him. "It's still exactly the same, though. I love it."

This highlighted another significant trait of Rachel's that I had long since forgotten about. She had the innate ability to be both sad and happy at the same time.

I smiled, scanning my menu with morbid curiosity. If the vast array of different combinations wasn't enough to confuse me, then the different bowls being carried right past our table did the trick. I couldn't choose just one! It was like a scene from Sophie's Choice.

"Let's get the biggest sundaes on the menu." Rachel said, flipping her menu over to look at the back. "We can switch half-way through so that we don't get bored."

"Sounds good to me." I agreed, scanning the menu with a massive smile.

Rachel nodded, apparently satisfied. She then began to re-examine her menu, double-checking that she would not be depriving herself of something better if she choose one flavour over another.

The menu offered me an opportunity to be discreet as I observed the diva's features. Her auburn-brown pony-tail tumbled over her shoulder, leaving me staring into her effervescent, champagne-brown eyes. Tiny, almost undetectable freckles were sprinkled across her nose and her cheekbones –which were perfectly defined - drew attention to her honey-coloured skin. Her lips curled upwards into a smile when she noticed that I was looking, but I didn't look away. "Rachel…"

She stopped me, holding up her hand. Clearly, she possessed the more dominant presence and out of habit, I knew better than to protest. "If you're about to say that you are sorry, then don't."

I stared at her, taken aback. "How did you know? That's slightly eerie even for you."

She laughed, placing her menu down and then reaching for mine. She stacked them together and returned her pointed gaze to me. "Santana told me that you have wanted to apologise to me for ages, but it's unnecessary."

"I wouldn't say that." I disagreed, smiling softly. "An apology or at least an explanation is the least that you deserve, and although I have every intention of keeping this meeting professional, I just want to say that I am sorry..." I paused, searching for permission to continue. Rachel gave me a very brief, almost non-existent smile, paired with a slight nod. I took this as a cue to continue, growing increasingly serious as the words tumbled from between my lips. "I'd just like to say that there was a moment when I realised that the words I once said to you, including my actions towards you, were not the words that were in my heart. I was clueless, I was obnoxious, and I was even afraid back then, but one thing I never was is honest…" I paused, my posture faltering under the pressure.

Rachel twisted a white-diamond ring around her index finger, keeping her gentle eyes trained on me as I struggled to find the words I was searching for. I sighed, frustrated with myself for not being able to find the right words. No words, no smile, and no amount of silence could express the emotions that I felt so desperate to communicate.

"Quinn, don't get upset." Rachel said, leaning closer to me. "It's okay. Forgiveness is something that happens internally and invisibly over a period of time, but I've already forgiven you. We've all made mistakes, had private struggles, and I'm sure we both regret things in our past. But you are not a mistake to me, and you are here right now with the power to shape your day and your future so how about sharing today with me? We can start to re-learn each other all over again."

"Are you sure?" I asked, spellbound by her humbled nature. Out of all the harsh, vindictive responses that Rachel could have given me, she had chosen a response that was really kind of beautiful. When I spoke again, my voice was almost disbelieving. This Rachel Berry was different, but I liked it. "You'd be willing to spend the whole day with me?"

"Yes." She smiled, humoured by my obvious enthusiasm. "In fact, I'd love too. That's if you're interested?"

"I am definitely interested." I grinned, lifting my menu to hide the blossom-pink blush that flourished beneath my skin. "We have a lot to catch up on. Five years is a very long time..."

"That's true." Rachel admitted. "A lot can happen in five years. Congratulations on your success by the way! Who would have known you would become a successful journalist?"

I laughed at the statement. "Not even me. Then again, there are a lot of things in my life that I was never expecting." The diva was curious but didn't press for more information as I turned my head to search for an unoccupied waitress. "Do you know what you want to order?"

"Yes." Rachel nodded, folding her menu and placing it back in the holder. "Do you?"

"I think so." I smiled, beckoning a waitress over to our table. Immediately, a waitress began to weave through the throng of people towards our table, armed with a notepad. She was young and had dark blonde hair that flowed over her shoulder. As she neared us, it was obvious that she was exhausted and although she looked familiar, I couldn't remember how I knew her. Maybe I'd seen her in a bar once, or maybe she was a friend of Carmen's. I had no idea, but I knew she was familiar and that unsettled me.

"Hi, I'm Olivia and I'll be your waitress this afternoon…" she smiled down at us, preparing to write down our orders. "What would you like to order?"

I turned to Rachel. "You first."

"No, you first Quinn."

"I insist." I smiled, gesturing for her to continue. Her eyes sparkled, smiling at me as she met my eyes. Slowly, she nodded and began to order her food, glancing back at me as if to say 'are you sure?'.

I nodded. "Thank you." Rachel smiled, twisting around in her seat to face the waitress. "I'll have an Eton Mess please."

"No problem." She waitress noted, scribbling down the order and then turning to me. "How about you?"

"I'll have a Rocky Horror please, but if you could make that one bill rather than two separate ones then that'll be great, thank-you."

Rachel tried to dismiss that comment, protesting to the point of insistence that she should be allowed to pay the bill instead, but I ignored her. "Bring the bill to me." I said to the waitress, maintaining a steady eye contact that confirmed I was serious.

"Sure," Olivia said, barely looking up from her notepad. At first, I was worried that she was trying to avoid making eye-contact with me, but then I decided to be more rational – perhaps she was just shy, or self-conscious. It was unlikely that I actually did know her from somewhere. "I'll bring your food right over."

"Thank-you." I nodded, slipping the menus into her hand. As soon as she pivoted around and headed towards the counter, Rachel spoke up.

"So," she said, pointing to the black folder peeking out of my bag. "Is that the proposal you wanted to show me?"

I looked at the folder and then Rachel. "Yes, are you interested?"

"Certainly." She nodded. "What's the basic concept?"

I reached for the folder and passed it to Rachel who sat waiting with out-stretched arms. "The basic concept is based upon poverty, but I want to look much deeper than that. This proposal is just the beginning of something much more profound…and I'm beginning to believe that we could really make a difference."

Rachel listened, taking the folder and examining the pages with keen eyes. No detail was missed as she flicked through the folder, analysing every section and each intricate detail of Carmen's plan with vigilant eyes. Every time she read an interesting fact, she re-read it again out loud. Something about the proposal, the way Carmen had written it or the idea itself attracted Rachel, but she couldn't seem to pin-point the reason why. From where I was sitting, it seemed as though Carmen's efforts had paid off, leading Rachel to seriously consider the opportunity.

"So, what do you think?" I asked a little while longer, watching various emotions flicker across her concentrated features.

""Well, this page here…" she turned the proposal around so that it was the right way up for me to read. I glanced over it, recognising the page and recalling the details without the need to read it. "This says that we would be filming in an orphanage?"

"Yes."

"What kind of orphanage?"

I stared at her blankly. "One with children."

Rachel laughed, looking at me. "No," she smiled. "I mean, what kind of place is it? Are they based in a poverty-stricken area or a city somewhere?"

"Oh," I laughed lightly, offering a rehearsed description of the orphanage. "It's been built in the outskirts of Mozambique and it's supposed to be beautiful there, but this particular orphanage is ridiculously low on funds and often doesn't receive help at all. It's the latest orphanage to be helped by Comic Relief's organisation; so therefore, it is the poorest and the most ill-maintained at the moment."

"Okay." Rachel nodded slowly, peering at the next page with suddenly cautious eyes. I desperately hoped that it wasn't me that had scared her, but she needed to be aware of the truth. I couldn't let her follow me so blindly into such a dangerous environment when I couldn't protect her any more than she could protect herself. "Will we be exposing ourselves to danger?" she asked, addressing the subject with a matter-of-fact approach.

I deliberated this carefully, the answer rolling of the tip of my tongue when I eventually felt confident that the truth was more beneficial than being ignorant. "Yes, in many ways we will. Compared to the locals, we are pretty safe in terms of diseases and common illness because we will have already been vaccinated, but nothing, including our safety, will ever been guaranteed."

Rachel's eyes met mine, heavily weighted with two very conflicting emotions. She was torn between her desire for an adventure and the safety of her oldest, most familiar dream. If anything was to happen, her greatest achievement which included her brand new role as the lead in a Broadway production of Chicago would be put in jeopardy.

She leant forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Do you think it's worth the risk, Quinn?"

I swallowed hard, afraid of the consequences. If I said yes, then Rachel could potentially put her whole career at risk because of me. That didn't seem to be worth it, but I didn't necessarily want to listen to the more rational part of me. "Honestly?"

"Yes."

"Then yes, I do."

Rachel allowed herself a few moments of silence so that her thought process could divulge all the information. It wasn't until I looked down that I realised Rachel's hands were sliding towards mine.

I straightened my posture and cleared my throat lightly. Just as I was about to hold Rachel's hand in an attempt to show both my sympathy and reassurance, Olivia arrived at our table carrying a huge tray stacked with ice-cream.

I diverted my gaze away from Rachel, hoping that she hadn't noted my intentions. My hands shot to my side as I tried in vain to pretend that I hadn't just been about to hold Rachel's hand.

Olivia scooped up one bowl, hovering it above our heads. It was so tempting to duck, but I managed to avoid such instincts. "This is yours I believe." She smiled, twisting her torso towards Rachel.

"Thank-you." Rachel smiled brightly, taking the bowl. "It looks lovely."

"Well I hope you enjoy it." Olivia grinned, taking my bowl from the tray and passing it to me. "Here's yours."

"Thank-you." I said, my eyes widening as they settled upon mountains of vanilla ice-cream coated in sticky chocolate sauce and topped with warm brownies. "Do we pay at the counter?"

"Yes, at the end of your meal." Olivia smiled before politely excusing herself. "Enjoy your ice-creams."

We began slowly, delicately dipping our spoons into the melting vanilla ice-cream. With every bite we became hungrier and more ravenous, although eventually we began to slow down. We stared at each other intensely, exchanging shy smiles.

"So," Rachel began slowly, carving out a perfectly enormous mouthful of ice-cream. I stopped eating for a moment, vaguely aware that something definite was about to come my way. Rachel's lip's twitched, debating whether or not a smile would be appropriate.

I sighed deeply, steeling myself. I feared the worst but hoped for the best, assuming Rachel was still considering the proposal. Of course, her question could have been related to something entirely different, but the confident gleam in her eyes told me it had something to do with our earlier topic.

She hesitated, observing me with a gentle stare. "_So_... where do I sign this contract?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so I just want to start by saying that your reviews are amazing! I love hearing what you guys think and it really inspires me to move onto the next update. **

**This chapter is really just a little bit of fluff between Rachel and Quinn as they begin to 're-learn' each other. I did find this chapter a little tricky at first since I've written so many different endings to it, but if you like it please let me know. If not, then I might consider changing it. **

**Any mistakes are my own. Sorry in advance as this was very, very rushed in the end! There's a few hints about Quinn sexuality and the history of her relationships, but nothing detailed – that will be coming in the next chapter!**

**Enjoy!**

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Just visible through the large arch window, a coppery sun skimmed the horizon, casting a pinkish glow upon the four white walls of the New York studio. Carmen's camera lingered on the window sill, basking in the last of the light as she flitted back and forth across the large, blank room.

Vintage styled beams like those in a 1920's movie framed the Westside of the studio, creating a beautiful arch which Carmen had wrapped little blue fairy lights around. Beneath the arch, Carmen's assistant – Jennifer Barrett - sat scrolling through images on our boss's viewfinder, scrutinizing each photo with eager eyes. Every time her gaze fell upon an image that she knew Carmen would love, she called the photographer over to take a look.

After a while, Carmen decided that it was time to call it quits, allowing Jennifer to go home an hour early. Carmen hugged me goodbye, warning me that we had an early shoot scheduled for the next morning, and then she said her goodbyes to Rachel who remained star-struck by her throughout the entire meeting.

As Carmen turned to leave, I noticed Rachel staring intensely at her. Perhaps she was checking her out - although that was most likely a fantasy of mine rather than a reality of hers - but she certainly seemed drawn to something in particular. I'd never really felt this form of jealousy before, but it was there and it wasn't likely to evaporate. Was it selfish to want her to stare at me instead?

I began to procrastinate, scaring myself as I did so. What if Rachel was gay? What if she liked Carmen? And then what if Carmen decided she liked Rachel? What if Rachel loved Finn still? That last thought scared me more than the other's.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked, dragging me out of my daydream which had slowly begun to twist into a strange, irrational nightmare. The thought of Rachel and Carmen together had run away with me, but the thought of her with Finn would haunt me forever.

I looked down at the drink I was stirring with my curly straw. "I'm making Bueno flavoured chocolate milk." I grinned. "It's a childhood thing. Do you want one?"

"No thanks, I'm 24."

"Suit yourself." I scowled at her, flinching in response to her playful slap across the arm. Her smile spread as she stole a sip from my drink without permission.

"So, do you think we should talk about the contract at some point?" she asked, folding her hands in her lap.

"Yeah sure. What do you want to know?"

"Well, Carmen explained everything to me earlier, but there are stills a few things that only _you_ can answer before I can sign the contract." Rachel's eyes floated across my face, suddenly serious.

"Okay," I said, feeling considerably unnerved all of a sudden. "What did you want to ask me?"

"I just want to know that our history had no impact on your decision to ask me to join you on this project." She dropped her gaze from me to my drink, holding it there. "I just want to make one deal with you based on our actions today…"

My brow creased, betraying my bewilderment. Rachel must've noticed, because she shifted in her seat, meeting my eyes with an intensity that I could not match. "Quinn," she reached out, taking my hand in hers. "I saw you try and hold my hand earlier."

"Oh," I tried to think of something to say – an excuse perhaps – but nothing came to mind. "If it made you feel uncomfortable then I promise I will never do it again. From here on out, everything will be one hundred per cent professional."

"No, Quinn." She avoided my gaze, keeping her eyes trained on our entwined fingers. A silent moment passed and Rachel lifted our interwoven hands. "Does this make _you_ feel uncomfortable?"

"No, it doesn't." I admitted, biting my lip. Her eyes were scorching – burning with raging questions that begged to be answered.

"I wish I had known _this_ Quinn five years ago." She smiled shyly, rubbing smooth circles into the side on my hand with her thumb.

"It's all because of one person." I admitted, hesitant to explain who that person was. There was no real reason for this except that tonight was about me and Rachel and no one else.

Luckily, she didn't intend on prying so she wasn't disappointed by my lack of exaggeration. "Maybe I'll get to learn about him one day?"

"Maybe you will…" I smirked, arching an eyebrow at the diva. Little did she know that it wasn't a man that had slept by my side, but a rather feisty woman instead. "I don't think sharing my past with_ you _would require me to break too many of my rules."

Rachel titled her head to one side, trying to figure me out. Her smile reappeared, but it was faint – curious. "And may I ask what these rules are?"

"All in good time." I promised, turning her hand over in mine. Our finger's moulded together so perfectly, as if crafted to find each other's in the midst friendship. I sighed deeply, dropping our hands into my lap. "So, what was this 'deal' that you wanted to make?"

"I have a question that needs answering first." Rachel stated as she leant into me. It was only slight, but enough for my heart to constrict in my chest. "What is this trip going to cost me?"

From the intensity in her tone to the way her eyes barred into me, I gathered she wasn't talking about the practical cost as much as the emotional cost. "I don't know." I admitted, burying my eyes to the floor. "We're going to see a lot of things that we're going to wish we'd never witnessed."

"I can cope with that, it's part of the job…Look at me, Q." She whispered, lifting my chin slowly. Her eyes were shining when I returned my gaze to them – they were soft, honest and _scared_. "Will it cost me you?"

"What? No! Of course not!" I exclaimed, pulling her into my chair to sit beside me. She laughed softly, tucking herself into the tiny gap beside me as she rested her head against the crook of my neck.

"Are you sure? Because this is going to be a very emotional time Quinn, and I don't want to jeopardize anything just after we've put our pasts behind us."

"I promise." I said, linking our finger's together. "In fact, I will pinkie swear."

"Are you really going to make me do that?" she groaned, wriggling further into me.

"Yes." I said, holding out my pinkie. "It's not up for debate."

"Fine." Rachel laughed, connecting our pinkies together before cuddling back into my arms. I held her in my arms tight, listening to the rise and fall of her chest. Another long, heavier stretch of silence enveloped us, broken by Rachel. "Nothing can happen between us, Quinn. You know that right? This trip is about the children, not us and our past or our future. It's about us being in the moment - helping and sharing our smiles and smothering those children with hugs they may never get again. That's what this trip is about…it's about _them_, not us..."

"I understand that." I sighed, revelling in the small but existent silence. She was right. Of course, she was right. But that didn't stop a tiny fraction of disappointment from swelling inside my heart. "I believe that being unwanted, unloved, uncared for or forgotten by everybody, is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat. So we will be there armed with enough hugs, kisses and laughter to last them a lifetime."

"That's all I wanted to hear." Rachel smiled, pulling my arm across her shoulder. My hand lingered halfway down her torso and she held it tight, her lips lingering with a silent kiss as she pressed her lip's gentle caress against the palm of my hand.

I sighed deeply, rolling my head back. "You know you're killing me right? This is the sort of behaviour that is _forbidden._"

She laughed lightly, pressing her silky lips against my neck and replying with a breathy whisper "I know, but that's half the fun."

**/#/#/#/#**

Half an hour later and Rachel and I sat at my desk, signing countless pages of paperwork. We had a system in process which was designed by her; she would read the pages out-loud and then sign at the bottom before passing the paper to me so that I could repeat her actions. This continued for a while and it was slow, precarious work but it needed to be done.

"Are you cold?" I asked, looking across to a shivering Rachel. She tried to hide it by pulling a thick, cream wool cardigan around her shoulders.

"No, I'm fine." She lied, just as another bout of vicious shivers trembled down her spine.

I frowned, pushing my chair backwards. "I'm going to put the temperature up, do you want a blanket? Or maybe a hot drink of some sort?"

"It's okay." She smiled, looking up at me from her seat. "I'll have to go soon anyway. It's already half eleven."

Immediately, a groan erupted from the back of my throat in protest but she didn't seem to have heard. My heels clicked across the hardwood flooring, echoing around the room.

I entered the little backroom which doubled as a storage space and a dressing room, hoping to locate a blanket. Stacked in the corner five red, blue and silver blankets lay forgotten, neatly tied together with a gold bow. They had been ordered the previous year for the purpose of the Olympics, but they had never once been used.

I scooped them up and then chucked the heating up a few notches, careful not to drop anything. When I turned around, Rachel was standing in the doorway, clutching the contract in her hands.

"What's wrong?" I asked, staring at her petite figure with genuine concern.

"Nothing." She grinned, walking into the room with cautious, measured steps. "I just wanted to look around."

"Oh," I stepped backwards, glancing around the room. "There isn't much to see in here."

"No." she agreed, scrunching up her nose. She peered over her shoulder and across the studio, pointing to a delicate white staircase that spiralled upwards, above the arch. "What's up there?"

"It's a balcony that overlooks the studio." I smiled fondly – it was my favourite place to be alone and my safest haven away from my own insecurities. "Up there, there's a little door that opens up to a tiny seating area, but it's probably freezing outside."

"Will you show me?"

"Of course." I nodded, slightly surprised by her request. "Follow me."

I passed her, still hugging the blankets close to my body. Rachel obeyed my orders, bringing the contract with her.

We wound our way up the stairs, occasionally glancing down. The little blue fairy lights provided an amorous ambiance when paired with the little rose bush that had begun to spiral up the outside of the building. It could be seen through the French-styled doors, twisting and twirling restlessly around the three story building.

Rachel stepped out onto the balcony first, offering to take the blankets from me. The streets were alive with a warm yellow glow that coated the city gold. Rachel gasped as she stepped to the left, looking out over Central Park. Beautiful red light's glittered in the distance as taxi's rounded the corner, beeping their horns and swerving through the streets. Building's loomed over us, prestigious and proud. The view was breath taking. The city below was illuminated and bustling with life as we looked down upon it from our safe haven. "Reason?" Rachel asked, pointing over the balcony with her pinkie.

I rolled my eyes and laughed lightly. "Does there always have to be a deep meaning behind everything?"

Rachel turned and met my eyes. "With you? Yes. There always was and I doubt that's changed."

With a small laugh, I sighed in surrender. Rachel had not forgotten my tendency to have deep reasons for my actions. I moved over so that I was standing behind the diva and rested my hands on the smaller woman's hips. "My reasoning for the view?"

Rachel nodded. "Yes."

"It makes me feel small and insignificant." Rachel furrowed her brow and twisted in my arms, enough to meet my hazel eyes. "There are times in my life when I want to feel that way. I mean, look at all of those lights, all of those people. There are literally millions of them within a few blocks radius and yet you will never meet most of them. They will never meet you. They will never judge you. This view is a way to remind myself that I'm just a tiny part in the world that keeps going, whether I want it to or not."

"And you want to feel like that?" Rachel couldn't think of any reason to want to feel so miniscule in the world.

"Yeah. Don't you ever get so overwhelmed, like everyone wants a piece of you, or that you have to live up to expectations because there are other people counting on you. There are days when I feel like I have so much pressure on my shoulders that if I don't do things right or well enough, the world is going to stop and point at me, telling me how much I screwed up. Then I come over here and look out the window and realize that there is just so much more going on in the world. If I let one person down, there are countless more that I could be making proud or who won't judge me. The world's not going to end if I mess up. There are always chances to try again."

Despite my complicated nature, it seemed to make perfect sense to Rachel– she could certainly relate when she applied my reasoning to a different area of her own life. She leant into me, trusting that I was there to hold her. "There have been moments when I felt like I would let everyone down…" she admitted in a small, timid voice that didn't sound as if it belonged to her. Her words were whispers in the night that I fought hard to catch. "If I don't perform well enough for example, I worry that I'm letting my family down or my cast mates, let alone my fans. To have someone say that it's okay if I don't do well, that there is another chance, a chance for redemption, it would mean the world to me. "

"Well if you'd let me, I'd like to be that person." I mumbled against her hair, squeezing her gently.

"And I'd like to return the favour for you." She said, titling her head back to rest on my shoulder. She was smiling – I was sure of it and so I smiled too, content just to hold her.

The wind crumpled the paper's which I had completely forgotten about as they lay on the ground. Rachel moved to pick them up, ensuring they wouldn't blow away. "Here." I said, moving to unravel the blankets. Beneath the warm glow of the lights from inside, I laid the blankets out to cover the floor of the balcony and then gestured for Rachel to sit down.

She did and then offered her hand out to me as I sunk to the floor beside her. For a little while, we simply sat in silence, gazing at the millions of beautiful stars hovering above our heads. They aren't just beautiful, though-the stars are like the trees in the forest, alive and breathing. And they were watching us.

"Shall we finish signing the contract?" I asked, forcing my way back into reality through the stillness of night. I wanted to lie there forever, but Rachel had already sat up, placing the contract in her lap.

"Already ahead of you." She grinned, clicking her pen and passing me one too.

As we sat beneath the stillness of the stars, time didn't seem to pass. Before either of us knew it, we had been out beneath the silver flecks in the sky for over an hour and our hands were beginning to go numb.

It seemed to take forever – the final four pages – but we pushed through the cold, refusing to leave behind the blanket of stars in the sky. We were content there, even if we were bloody freezing!

As soon as my pen glided across the last page, Rachel let out an excited squeal. _We were done!_ It was official – we would be travelling 4,237 miles across the ocean to Mozambique in three weeks!


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry about the wait, I hope this matches everyone's expectations! I'm really enjoying writing this so I'll continue. If anyone has any ideas, improvements or situations that you'd like to see included then please let me know! Please PM me or leave reviews, I'd love to hear your opinions. **

**Reviews are always wonderful to read, they make my day and encourage me to keep going so thank-you! And I owe a special thank you to my regular readers. I'd love to hear what you guys think!**

**Any mistakes are mine. Enjoy!**

**I've changed the ending very slightly since it doesn't lead onto the next chapter very well. My mistake entirely! Sorry to anyone who is disappointed, but another update is on its way. **

**#/#/#/#**

The muted grey light of yet another dreary morning in New York City eventually woke Rachel. She lay with her arm across her eyes, groggy and dazed. Something - a dream trying to be remembered perhaps - struggled to break into her consciousness. She moaned and rolled onto her side, hoping more sleep would come. And then the previous day flooded back into her awareness.

"Oh…" Rachel groaned, looking around with bleary vision. She shielded her eyes from the sun, confused as to why she had been awoken so early. As if to confirm that her stubborn temperament was still a thing of the present, she tucked her head back under the blanket, refusing to let the light defeat her.

"Your hair looks like a haystack… but I like it." I commented, rolling over beside her. With a hazy half-smile she tucked her head beneath my chin and rested there, squinting in the daylight.

"Lie with me." She whispered, shutting out the light as her eyelashes fluttered closed against her cheek.

"I will when I get back." I promised, nuzzling her hair. "I'll be two seconds."

Above us a shimmering New York sunrise - laced with glittering shades of oranges, pinks, reds and yellows - rose to glory, lighting up the city. Its beauty was doomed by blackening clouds in the distance, but that didn't stop me from seeing its worth. I slipped away and headed back into the studio, leaving Rachel tucked beneath a messy mass of blankets.

I quietly sneaked down the spiral staircase and towards Carmen's office where I knew I would find thousands of pounds worth of equipment resting in the corner. The wooden flooring felt cold against my bare-feet and my shirt hung from one shoulder – no longer tucked into my skirt.

I rummaged through the various cameras, searching for a little Canon Digital Camera to slip around my neck. I wanted to make sure I'd remember this morning forever so that even if it never physically repeated itself, I'd always have something to remember it by.

Eventually I found what I was looking for, so I slipped back upstairs and crouched down opposite Rachel, the camera firmly planted in my hands. I brought the camera up to my face, focused it on the sleeping diva, and took a picture before peeking over the top of the camera to see the real thing. I loved that feeling. That feeling that no matter how long someone else stared at the picture I had just taken, they would never be as lucky as I was to see the real thing in person.

A light smiled formed upon my lips as I returned my eyes to the camera, pulling my legs upwards to sit Indian style. That way I could rest my elbows on my knees and focus the camera more clearly. I zoomed in and traced over Rachel's placid features, her lightly closed eyes, slightly pouted lips, barely curled fingers, strands of wavy dark hair that had fallen near her eyes. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the wonder that lay in front of me – unsuspecting, but still beautiful.

I lowered my camera when Rachel started to stir. The brunette wiped the sleep from her eyes and stretched onto her back, catching my wondering gaze. "Good morning. Working on satisfying your addiction I see." Rachel jibed, pointing to the camera.

"Both of them."

"Both?"

I nodded, abandoning the camera and walking on my hands up to the diva's waiting lips. "Taking pictures and looking at you. I always did tell you that your 'look-at-me, look-at-me' life style would never be a problem."

"Ohh, I see." She laughed, sitting up so that she could wrap her arms around my neck and pull me closer. No movement – on her behalf or mine – had been thought about until we were eye to eye and my lips lingered dangerously close to hers.

Rachel went to make a joke – a jibe of some kind to add to conversation – but her breath caught when her eyes locked onto mine. We held onto each other, our breathing growing quick and shallow until one of us decided to move.

Suddenly it was all very real - the flirting, the jokes, the innocent touches - they all amounted to something very significant that could only be communicated through a kiss.

Her lips remained inches away from mine, testing our restraint. I wanted to kiss her so bad, but I was cautious of forcing things to move faster than we were ready for. Whatever this was, it wasn't ready to be pushed and we both shared a mutual agreement that we would respect that.

As if Rachel could hear my fears, she cupped my face and forced me to look into her pleading eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes glimmered and darkened in response to my gentle graze that lingered along her thigh.

The brunette's thumb ran over my bottom lip painfully slow, memorizing its outline. She moved closer to me, biting her lip. "Kiss me." She breathed.

And so I did. I kissed her like her lips were air and I couldn't breathe. Not a single force on earth could pull my lips away from hers or stop the trembling of my hand and in that moment I knew I would never tire of her lips.

Rachel ran her fingers through my hair and pulled me closer, never wanting to let go. I didn't mind. We only gasped for breath between the hasty, passionate connection of our lips as I relished the sweetness of Rachel's mouth that I had dreamed of for so long. The only thing better was when Rachel granted me access inside her mouth and our tongues met for the first time. We moaned at the contact as we engaged in a fight for dominance.

Neither of us cared who won, we just wanted more and we weren't prepared to stop until we got it.

Another intense kiss had us both grasping for something to hold onto as I pushed her down onto the floor and then climbed on top so that I was straddling her hips.

"Fuck…Quinn!"

I hovered over Rachel, unable to tear my eyes away from her lips. She gasped for air beneath me, her eyes black with desire. Just as she wrapped her arms around my neck and connected our lips in a scorching, passionate kiss, I pulled away.

"R-Rachel…are…are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes." she said, her brows knitting together with sudden concern. "Are you?"

"Off course." I grinned, leaning down and placing a sweet kiss on her readied lips. "It's just that it's a lot to wrap our heads around in less than twenty-four hours."

Rachel reached up and cupped my face, running her hands down my neck and across my back. "You're right." She agreed, rolling us over so that she was on top instead. She held my arms above my head and smiled. "We have plenty of time to explore how we feel about each other. We need to focus on the emotional side of our relationship which still needs a little time to adjust and repair itself. In the meantime, we can use our new-found relationship, whatever it may be, as a chance to work on the discipline of self-control. What do you think?"

"I agree. We have plenty of time to focus on our physical relationship, but right now our emotions need to be a priority." I rolled us over again, asserting my slight lead in dominance. We laughed as our bodies meshed together on the cool, hard ground. "We need to figure out what _this_ is."

Rachel pouted beneath me, loosening her grip around my neck. "But until we do that you can still kiss me, right?"

"Try and stop me!" I teased, peppering kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Rachel writhed in my arms, laughing as I showered her in adoring kisses.

"Stop it!" she screamed, tilting her head back as she giggled. "Stop it! I'm ticklish! Stop it!"

I laughed against her neck, leaving behind a pink bruise of my existence. "Okay, I'll stop." I said, pulling away just as her laughter turned into moans of pleasure.

She fisted my hair, pouting. "No! Don't! Ignore what I said earlier…."

**/#/#/#/#**

Later that morning Carmen's LA client cancelled, leaving us with a free morning and nothing to do. Jennifer began to work through the accounts, Carmen began to reschedule her diary and Rachel engrossed herself in a conversation with a rogue make-up artist whilst I sat behind my Mac working.

When the rogue make-up artist began to sift through her supplies, the diva joined me instead. I abandoned my nearly complete article to create a small area where Rachel could sit without a stapler pinching her ass.

Amidst the cluttered white desk, Rachel found a little photo album that served as my own personal memory box, stuffed with old anecdotes and memoirs that I couldn't live without. Old, faded pictures of my beautiful little girl were tucked inside, along with images of me and Carmen and her family in England. They treated me like their own daughter – one of their own – and being with them was the closest thing I'd ever had to home.

Rachel ran her fingers along the edge of the album, but didn't open it. Perhaps she was scared of what she'd find and the memories or questions that each photo may bring or perhaps she was just respecting my privacy – either way I didn't mind. It just proved that we still had a lot to work on.

Sitting on my desk with Rachel Berry hanging from my arm was slightly surreal. Welcoming Rachel into this slightly dysfunctional world of mine was daunting, but she fitted right in. We sat side by side with our shoulders rubbing together as our legs swung in time to the music; it felt as though we had never been apart.

Through the arch window torrential rain pelted down, attacking the glass with senseless force. In the distance the clouds were dense and ominous – effectively locking us inside for the morning. Rachel didn't seem to mind though as we shared a morning coffee together and watched Carmen struggle to figure out how international accounts worked.

Eventually she gave up, instead threatening to tip everything out the window and into the rain. "I hate accounts!" she exclaimed, tossing a heavy folder down on the desk. "And I hate banks! And I hate the pricks that work at banks!"

"I'll do it." Jennifer grinned, taking the folder and placing it in her lap.

"It's fucking impossible!"

"C'mon. Pass it here." Jennifer said. "I'm sure I'll find a way to do it in the end."

"Are you sure?" Carmen asked, suddenly feeling slightly guilty but not enough to say no.

Jennifer nodded, clearly amused. "Yes, hand it over."

"Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you!" Carmen cried, throwing her arms around her assistant from behind and giving her a cheeky peck on the cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You certainly wouldn't own a successful business that's for sure," Jennifer grinned, waving the folder above her head. "You're useless with accounts!"

"Well, I can't really deny that just after throwing a tantrum." Carmen grinned, lighting a cigarette. She positioned herself beside the window so that the smoke spiralled out into the thick, grey nothingness where a city full of empty people existed.

A momentary silence passed between me and Rachel which was disguised by The Script playing in the background. I glanced at Rachel sideways, noting the way her eyes lingered on Carmen. She watched every breath Carmen took, every drag she had of the cigarette, every flutter of her eyelashes, but she still didn't seem to have any answers. Her lips mimicked Carmen's when they turned upwards into a coy smile and her cheeks flushed with a delicate rosiness when the photographer glanced at her and smiled, unaware up until then of the diva's attention.

It seemed as though Rachel was trying to figure her out, but couldn't and it was frustrating her. She leant backwards with a sigh, supporting herself against the wall. I tried not to get jealous since the way she looked at Carmen wasn't gentle – it wasn't harsh either – but it still wasn't the way she looked at me. It didn't seem to be a superficial reason that had captured Rachel's attention and she was looking deeper than just the surface. However I guessed that a little jealousy from me was good. It meant that I was afraid to lose her and that helped define my feelings towards her a little bit further.

Carmen stubbed out the blunted remains of her burnt out cigarette and looked across to the set that remained untouched. "What do you say to doing your shoot today Rach?" she asked, kicking fallen ash with her heel. "Your costumes came yesterday morning and I think we could use something to do today."

"Great..." Rachel agreed, although she seemed slightly unnerved. Both Carmen and I read the look in her eye and remained silent, hoping that she'd elaborate. "I'm not very good when I know that everyone's looking for every little imperfection. It's too much pressure. I end up feeling like a little ant under a microscope!" she huffed a laugh, genuinely afraid to embarrass herself in front of Carmen. This was a part of her job after all and knowing Rachel like I did, she probably didn't want to appear weak. "I'll need direction and _a lot_ of patience."

Carmen smiled softly, understanding completely. It was a common emotion among her clients who looked to her for comfort after stylist's and make-ups artists damaged their suffering ego's without realising. "That's okay, Rachel. It's my job, and it's an honour to be photographing you. There are no time constraints this morning and it's fairly empty in here. I don't want you hidden behind layers of make-up either so you won't have to go through that ordeal. It'll just be me, you and the camera. Sound okay?"

Rachel nodded with a broad 'Rachel-Berry-Has-Just-Won-A-Tony' smile. "Perfect."

"Great." Carmen smiled. "I'll go and set up. Jennifer? Would you mind giving me a hand please? And Quinn, if you could get an article about this shoot that'll be great. Thanks."

"Course." I nodded, sliding of the desk. Immediately idea's sprung to mind. Carmen and Jennifer disappeared into a back room, searching for costumes, lighting and cameras

"Do I have to do anything?" Rachel asked, remaining in her place on my desk.

"No, it's fine for now. Carmen will tell you when she needs you."

"Okay…" Rachel said, her light smile turning into a deep frown. "What do Camera's tattoo's mean?"

"Which ones?" I asked, shifting through a pile of paperwork to find a previous article that I'd written.

Carmen had several small, tasteful tattoos that all meant something wholly significant yet the three dates on the back of her neck were my favourite. Not only were they beautiful, but they were a symbol of hope that couldn't be destroyed. Words were never going to be enough, but those dates said everything that needed to be said.

"The ones on her neck." Rachel stated, titling her head to the left.

"Do you really want to know?" I asked, moving to stand between Rachel's legs. She scooted forward and wrapped her arms around my neck, letting me rest my hands on the top of her thighs.

"Yes." She nodded. The information would prove valuable to her. The personal meaning of those tattoo's would give her a much clearer, more accurate read on who the HBIC cheerleader that she held in her arms had turned out to be.

"Okay…" I said, glancing over my shoulder. Rachel squinted at the door and then nodded, convinced that no one would emerge from the tiny room. Her eyes landed on me, silently begging me to continue. "Those are the dates that Carmen beat cancer..." I admitted. "The last date, at the bottom, was added in January this year. It's been seven months now."

The next several minutes passed in silence. Rachel's mind tried and failed to absorb the information, visibly struggling to envision such a powerful and beautiful young woman touched by the wrath of death. The rational side of life didn't really apply in Rachel's mind. She didn't see the bright, bubbly boss that had survived it all and she didn't see what Carmen had gained, but only saw what she'd lost.

I bowed my head and rested our foreheads together, meeting Rachel's strong gaze. "Still processing?"

Rachel used a form of sign language – otherwise known as a nod – to confirm that she was still trying to make the pieces fit together inside her head.

"It's okay. It took me a long time to get used to it as well." I admitted, filling the hollow silence with a few words.

"W-when did you… How did you cope with it?" The question stumbled its way out of the diva's mouth, causing me to smile at her temporary stutter.

"That's a story for another time." I smiled, pecking her lips. "Maybe over dinner tonight? What do you think?"

Just then Carmen emerged from the changing room, sampling an outfit for Rachel to wear. Our eyes instantly widened, hurt by the horrendous sight. "What are you wearing?" I asked, blinking repeatedly.

The suit only seemed to worsen every time I opened my eyes. The orange coloured dress suit was meant to look fashionable, but it failed on so many levels. It had been sent to Carmen by a Chanel representative, yet since it was so shockingly awful our boss refused to let any model be seen dead in it.

Apparently it was okay for her to wear it though. She strutted around the studio, fully aware of its hideousness. She turned to me, crossing her legs at the angles as she leaned against her desk looking surprisingly chic. "You know what? I didn't wear this suit for a year because you hated it. Well, guess what? You're not my girlfriend anymore, so..."

"Oh I see, so this suit is making a point."

"Right."

"Now that you're on your own, you're free to look as stupid as you like…"

"Yeah."


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for taking so long to update! Unfortunately, this chapter is slightly lacking Faberry but I will certainly make it up to you in the next chapter. The interaction between Carmen and Quinn is necessary so please hang in there! This was very difficult to write since I was pulled in so many different directions..I hope you understand. Any suggestions to improve this chapter would be very much appreciated. **

**I already have a brief idea who Carmen will end up with, but suggestions are always welcome! Nothing is set in stone, but I'm very excited about it. Let me know what you think!**

**Thank-you so, so, so much again for the reviews! It's so nice to read what you guys think. It makes it all worth it. **

**Please enjoy!**

**/#/#/#/#**

A solitary clock struck among the wooden oak beams, echoing through the converted loft as Carmen and I waited for Rachel to emerge from the dressing room. Outside, the rain failed to ease up and it's constant, ominous rhythm pulsed, bouncing off the pavement like little diamonds. My face was pressed up against the third floor window, watching as pedestrian's hurried to and fro amidst the foggy grey mist.

In-between the broken snippets of conversation that passed between me and the photographer – who had changed back into her fitted grey dress - my eyes flickered again and again to the dressing room door. I tilted my head back against the window with a sigh, realising that Rachel would not be taking any shortcuts while trying to achieve perfection.

"Be careful you don't fall out the window." Carmen warned, wearing her favourite smirk. I glared at her, knocking the glass lightly. It was firmly shut, but after a near death experience a few weeks back, I was admittedly a little wary. "Or do, whatever…"

"Shut up." I said, rolling my eyes. "You shit yourself when you thought I'd fallen!"

"Yeah, you've got that right." She admitted, nodding her head sharply before refocusing herself. "You are an excellent journalist and I didn't want to go through the trouble of finding another one."

"Ha! Very funny…" I commented dryly, resting my head back against the window. Carmen continued to sit at her desk, head buried in her hands. She was staring hard at a flower she'd drawn – a rose to be exact - it had seven petals and deep velvet creases in the stem. "What's wrong?" I asked, jumping down from the window sill.

"Uh, nothing." She lied, refusing to meet my eyes. The flower remained the focus of her attention.

"Hey, c'mon Carmen it's me. What can't you talk to me about? Something's bothering you." I sat down opposite her, confused by the sudden shift in moods. This wasn't natural – seeing Carmen so silent and hollow – it didn't seem to fit her like it might some other person.

I twisted around, checking that Rachel hadn't emerged and then folded my hands in my lap, studying the slender brunette as if the source of her sadness would be etched across her features. I was disappointed to find that there were no clues in her molten gold eyes. Her eyes were filled with so many conflicting emotions that it was difficult to pin point just one to focus on. I continued to study her, scrutinizing every dimple and curve on her body. Carmen was statuesque – slender and toned. She also had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her tousled hair was wavy, swaying in sync with her hips and her lips curled upwards into a beautiful, wide smile under my scrutiny.

"What?" she laughed, trying to disguise her soft pink blush. "What do you think about when you do that? When you look at me like that?"

As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that her glance held some kind of unmet expectation. She arched a perfect eyebrow, silently begging me to continue.

"It's cheesy." I warned.

"Tell me any way."

"I…" I struggled to find the right words. "When I do that, I'm looking at you. Like, really looking at you. Memorizing each inch of your face so…" I trailed off wanting nothing more than to forget the conversation completely. It really was incredibly cheesy.

"Are you blushing?" Carmen teased, smiling brightly. The pitter - patter of the pouring rain outside increased, drowning out my thoughts.

I rolled my eyes, breaking into a shy smile. Carmen rose from her seat and traced the outline of the desk with her index finger. "Tell me." She grinned, balancing on the edge of the desk so that I could reach out and touch her.

"It's just a lot of things." I blushed deeper, unveiling my embarrassment. I couldn't afford to forget that this woman was my boss _and_ my ex – and there were lines that we could no longer cross.

"Like?"

"One day, I know that we'll both move on. We'll fall apart, or circumstances will change the course of our friendship and I won't ever be able to look at you like this again...I won't be able to look at you like you're mine and I'm the luckiest person in the world…I used to watch you like this every morning when you were ill. Do you remember?" Carmen nodded, swallowing hard. "I miss that. I miss us, but it's done and sometimes it's nice to know there's still a part of you that only I'll have. Our history is ours and that can't be taken away. But when I look at you like that it's because I want to memorize the details of your being now so that I can just close my eyes and see you as if you were right in front of me in the future…it's cheesy…but yeah. It's my way of holding onto us when I need it most."

Carmen smiled bashfully as I struggled with the burning blush inching its way up to my face. "If I knew that, I would have put some makeup on. I don't want you to remember me like this."

"Oh, whatever. You're beautiful anyway. You don't need that all that."

Carmen rolled her eyes, unable to see the truth within my last statement. She didn't see how beautiful she was, even though she'd been glorified by everyone since she was a young girl. She was just of those people that you wanted to despise, but couldn't. "You should focus all those compliments on someone who deserves them."

"You do deserve them." I stated, folding my arms across my chest. Tiny beads of condensation from the window began to soak through my little black cardigan from where I was resting against the glass. "But I have a feeling you were talking about Rachel, right?"

She ducked her head, her smile now disintegrating into nothingness. "Yes." She admitted after a long pause. The mood around us changed once again, shifting towards a heavier, darker kind of silence where tension rippled beneath the calm, watery surface.

I opened my mouth to speak, but then stopped myself before any stupid or rash statement of any kind escaped me. Carmen inhaled deeply, biting her lip. "Do you think it's easy for me seeing you with someone else?" she asked, running her fingers through the long tresses of her hair.

Immediately, my biggest weakness reared its ugly head. My defensive reflexes kicked in, causing tempers to flare. We hadn't actually discussed moving on, but with Rachel it all felt so natural that I hadn't even questioned my actions or considered the effect it would have on Carmen who didn't even know that I was ready to move on. "You know what, hey! You're the one who ended it! Remember?"

"Yeah, because I was mad at you! Not because I stopped loving you! I always thought we'd get back together in the end. That's just the way we work. We fight…we make up. I guess I just didn't realise that this time it was for good."

I ran my hands through my hair, pacing back and forth. I could feel her golden eyes watching me – waiting for me to turn on her.

A thick, unrelenting silence forced itself upon us, restricting the depth of each breath. I swallowed hard, gathering my senses. Two very conflicting emotions coursed through my veins, but I didn't know which was greater: Anger or Guilt. I longed to hear those words: I love you. But now all I could do was think of Rachel and how it was too late for me and Carmen. I'd already fallen for someone else and only now was I realising just how deep my 'crush' had been in high-school. "Do you still love me?"

"No." Carmen denied, a little too quickly.

"You still love me."

"Oh yeah, so, you still love me!"

"No, n-n-n-no." I tried to deny it, but what was the point? She could see straight through my pretence. After all, Carmen was the woman responsible for my growth, my acceptance, my happiness, and my first real shot at love. "What does this mean? What do you…I mean do you wanna get back together?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know Quinn. I still can't forgive you for what you did, I can't, I just, but sometimes when I'm with you I just, I feel so...

"What?!" I insisted, rising to my feet. Her liquid gold eyes glittered back at me, relaying all those things she had repressed inside. Without hesitation I tackled her into in a massive bear hug, tucking my head into the crook of her neck.

"I just, I feel, I just..." Her arms laced around my waist as she melted into my embrace and allowed her tension to evaporate.

"What?"

"I love you, Quinn. But I don't want to be with you." She pulled away, unhooking herself from my embrace. "I'm fed up of loving you and then hating you, then loving you and losing you and I'm only just realizing that I can stop it. We should move forward. Whatever it is that you and Rachel have between you, I'm happy for you. You deserve it and I hope she treats you right…There is no more you and me…" This hit me hard, even though it was something I already knew deep down. She stepped closer to me, running her hands down my arms. "What I'm trying to say is please don't let our history hold you back. You've come so far since I first met you and I don't see why you shouldn't have a real shot at falling in love with the woman of your dreams."

My mind raced, searching for the words that should have been there all along. I should have seen that coming, but I didn't. For some unthinkable reason, I'd believed that the photographer would demand more of a fight – perhaps even present me with an ultimatum – but she never did. She didn't fight for me because it wasn't her place anymore. She already knew what was best for me and this was her way of reminding me of who I was and what I needed.

I took a step backwards, straightening my posture while struggling to compose myself. "I had no idea you felt like that."

"Neither did I until I saw they way you looked at Rachel. It was never just a crush, Quinn. We both know that. Besides, we haven't been together in months so maybe this will do us both good."

"I never lied when I said I loved you. You really do mean the world to me."

Carmen smiled softly, but her eyes were sad. "I know, but now I'm accepting that I gave you everything I had and you can't do the same."

"I don't know what to say except that I love you and I have no intention of comprising our friendship for any relationship, let alone one that hasn't even begun yet!" Carmen laughed, arching her eyebrow knowingly. I knew that look. "Well okay, it's started a little bit, but I don't want to be presumptuous."

"Just promise that nothing will change between us?"

"Of course! Life wouldn't be complete without an eccentric photographer and high-maintenance diva in my life."

We laughed, entwined together by a tender moment as our eyes met above the ray of sun that split the studio right down the middle. Carmen's eyes pierced straight through me, silently reassuring me, telling me that we were going to be alright. "I love you." I whispered, pouting at her.

"I love you too, Quinnie." She grinned, leaning forward and planting a delicate kiss on my cheek. My eyelids fluttered closed as she lingered there, hesitant to pull away. There was a symbolic meaning to this goodbye that was hard to ignore because although it wasn't a goodbye, in many ways it was. She stared at me, biting her lip. Then she smiled. "Love her or someone like her; take care of them until you die. You know, raise kids. Have a good life. Be a good friend. And try to be completely who you are. And figure out what you personally love. And like go after it with everything you've got no matter how much it takes. Okay?"

I nodded, perplexed by her passion. With every word, it seemed as though she believed in me that little bit more. "And I want you to do the same. You'll make a wonderful wife someday and an even better mom."

"We'll see." She grinned. "I hope you'll be around to watch me attempt all that."

"I will." I promised without hesitation. "Like I'd pass up the opportunity to see you changing a diaper!"

"Fuck that!" she scoffed, evidently alarmed. "That's what nannies are for, I think. Plus, I just wanna play the field a little now, you know? Nothing serious for the time being."

"Yeah. Things were pretty intense when we were together."

"Yes, but I wouldn't change it for the world." She agreed, giving me a quick hug.

"Neither would I."

We cherished our last embrace since we both knew it could be our last and then I pulled away, only succeeding in letting go when my thumb brushed the exposed skin just visible through a cut-out in the back of her slender grey dress.

Then Carmen turned away to face the window just as a work crew finished putting up a large poster advertising Rachel's new Broadway show across the street. Rachel's award-winning smile stared back at her and although Carmen's face was turned away, I thought her cheek appeared lifted, as if she were smiling too. And in that moment, I knew I had found what I was looking for.

_Rachel._

"Shall I go and see if your muse is ready?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood before Rachel was brought into the room. She was already nervous and the heightened tension wouldn't do her any favours. Plus, I just wanted to see her - to reconfirm how I felt about her.

"Sure." Carmen said, continuing to watch the workmen battle against the torturous torrents of rain outside. "Let see what we have to work with."

**/#/#/#/#**

We were halfway through Rachel's photo-shoot - which had so far resulted in one glittered covered diva, an inspired photographer and a sexually frustrated me - when Carmen decided to help me understand what made an image worthy of thousands of dollars.

As Jennifer left the studio in a quest to find everyone an edible lunch, Carmen offered me and Rachel a valuable lesson in the purpose of photography. She had given me her first camera to work with a couple of weeks beforehand and we were only just finding the time to look through the images I had taken on a walk through the city.

The diva – who was sitting on my lap dressed in a robe – was just as interested in the photographer's knowledge as I was, so we watched carefully as she slid the memory card into her laptop.

Carmen began clicking through them, intrigued. They weren't like hers and they lacked some key qualities, but they were good for a beginner. I thought they were nice to look at but also seemed to lack that purpose, the reason for why I had originally taken them. None of the images seemed to show a reason for their being, yet it was clear they were taken on impulse.

"What do you think of them?" Carmen asked me as she finished shuffling through them.

"I like them, but I just feel that they are missing something." The brunette waved her hand in a circular motion, waiting for more of an explanation. "I still don't seem to have found that direction. Or as you asked me yesterday, why did I take the pictures I took. I could have told you then, but not while I'm looking at them now."

The diva slipped her hand into mine, nodding her head as she observed my work. Rachel wasn't prepared to hide our affection in front of Carmen and the fact that I wasn't either told Rachel that I wasn't going to let anything get in the way of our relationship, but also that I wasn't trying to rub it in my ex's face.

She didn't know about what had gone down in Carmen's office while she was being primped and polished, but I think she had a pretty good guess.

Carmen nodded and lightly ran her thumb over the mouse. "When you see something in motion, it is easier to know what is so special about it. When you have a single shot, you have to set up everything in it to try and help remind you. You saw something and took a picture, but now, without an action behind it, you can't remember why."

"So, how do you fix that?" Rachel asked, interested as well.

"Use everything you can to elicit emotions that tie you to it. Shadows, angles, focal points. Here, come here." Carmen offered Rachel her hand and gently pulled her to her feet and then motioned for me to get up before guiding Rachel back into the chair. "Let me have the camera." She said. I put the memory chip back in and handed it back to the photographer. Carmen stood directly in front of a suddenly bashful Rachel and took a picture. "Now, don't move." She ordered as she moved to the side and took another.

Rachel shoulder's locked, refusing to relax as Carmen focused the camera on her. "Try to relax." Carmen said, dropping the camera for a brief moment. "Where's your happy place?"

"On the stage…in the spotlight to be exact...singing."

"Okay, we need something slightly more serene than that." Carmen grinned, quickly tucking a stray curl behind Rachel's ear. "It needs to be a happy place that doesn't involve heart-stopping adrenaline and a thousand people throwing roses at your feet."

"I'm sorry, but the stage is where I'm happiest." Rachel confessed; trying desperately to think of somewhere else that caused her to experience as much happiness as her beloved stage.

"Well, okay, fine. Use my happy place. Okay, I'm just ... I'm gonna have to ask that you don't move anything in there."

I laughed and then mashed my lips together when Carmen turned to look at me over her shoulder.

"Okay, I'll try not to." Rachel smiled, finally relaxing.

"Okay. All right, so, you're in a meadow, millions of stars in the sky…" Carmen picked up her camera, lightly tracing the details and contours of Rachel's face.

"Do I look okay?"

"Okay, there are no questions in the happy place. Just the warm breeze and the moonlight flowing through the trees..."

Rachel fidgeted, rubbing the left over essence of silvery blue glitter away.

"I'll bet you're used to photographing loads of beautiful models, aren't you?"

"All right, betting and wagering of any kind are, I'm sure, not permitted in the happy place…Especially not when it could be damaging to your self-confidence." Carmen stated, trying desperately to hide her smile. There was something about Rachel that was likable – including her nervous ramblings – and Carmen seemed to be noticing it. "Now, stay still."

This time Rachel obeyed with smiling eyes, watching me the entire time. Her eye's penetrated my body, rendering me speechless as she stared down the camera lens with warranted intensity. _God, she's beautiful_, I thought to myself as Carmen clicked away, absorbed in the beauty of her muse.

Then, Carmen slipped the card back into the hard-drive and pulled the two pictures up side by side. I reclaimed my place behind the still slightly blushing diva, catching her weight in my arms.

"The first one is like what you took on your trip through the city. Straight forward pictures." Both Rachel and I looked on with great interest. "It's a nice picture but it's just a picture and nothing more. Now the second one is angled, slightly hiding part of her face. She's no longer looking at me which pulls the viewer into the photo. They're going to start thinking about what it is she is looking at. What else is there that they are missing? What can she see that they can't? It creates a mystery, an emotional depth. Pictures are pictures. Photos are much more."

"I love this one." I gushed, pointing to the screen with her index finger. I shifted so that Rachel could see the picture and the diva nearly gasped. Carmen was right. Rachel had taken thousands, if not tens of thousands, of photos but never one that seemed so real, so alive. The emotion in her eyes made the rest of the shot a blur. There was nothing else that compared to draw her attention away. "The intensity in her eyes…it's as if she's seeing right through the camera to you."

"Or you." Carmen commented, her eyebrows pulling upwards as she began to edit the image with softer levels of saturation. "Admittedly, it's beautiful. Were you watching Quinn the entire time?"

Rachel blushed, her eyes darting back and forth from me to the photographer. "Yes." She confessed, turning several shades darker.

I grinned, holding her a little bit tighter as I placed a discreet kiss upon her neck, right beneath her ear. She leant into me further, smiling deeply as she forgot about her embarrassment.

Carmen flicked over to the next image, turning away from us with a smirk. Another image appeared from our earlier shoot where Rachel had been wearing nothing but a pair of light denim jeans. The rest of her body was covered in a silvery blue glitter that sparkled in the strobe lighting. The image was incredible – very original – but equally it had something very 'Rachel' about it. Seeing this image reignited my dying sexual frustration, causing goose bumps to spread along my arms.

"That was one of the last ones we shot. They'll use that on the double-page spread." Carmen noted, clicking back to the beginning and shuffling through them sequentially again.

Rachel saw the dozens of photos from the days shoot as they flickered over the screen, each one a bit more relaxed - another step closer to having that life in her eyes. "I didn't even realize you had taken so many." She admitted, thoroughly absorbed in the images.

Carmen smiled, saving the images. "Like I said, every frame is something new. Something more. The more you take, the more likely you are to catch what it is you are looking for."

"And did you?" Rachel asked.

Carmen met the diva's eyes with a smile, pleased by her apparent enthusiasm. "I do believe I have."

"Great…" Rachel nodded, turning to hear the office door clicking open. Jennifer emerged, carrying two full bags of food, unsure of where to dump it all.

"Here let me help you." I said, gently prodding Rachel's shoulder until she vacated my lap.

"Thanks," Jennifer said, handing me the lightest bag. "Okay, I've got a leg, three breasts, and a wing."

Carmen – who had been absorbed in Rachel's images – looked up with a drop brow, a hint of a smile crossing her plump lips. "God!" she gushed, holding her hand to her chest. "How do you find clothes that fit?"

Jennifer shot the photographer an unimpressed glare, placing the food in her lap. "Not funny." she said, although Carmen knew she was tempted to smile.

"I disagree."


End file.
